Devotion to the Enemy
by Dasha Feather
Summary: Rose has been abandonned by the people she loves most. But when it's for her son, what choice do she have? Her life is getting harder by the day, but then comes back the blue police box... and everything changes. 10.2/Rose, 11/Rose ...
1. One

_**Devotion to the Enemy**_

**Disclaimer: **_Doctor Who_ © BBC.  
**Author: **Story; _Devotion to the Enemy_ © Dasha Feather.  
**Characters: **The (Eleventh) Doctor, The Part-Human Doctor (James Smith), Rose Tyler, Jackie Tyler, Alt!Pete Tyler, Tony Tyler, Jake Simmons, Alt!Owen Harper, Alt!Toshiko Sato, Alt!Ianto Jones, Alt!Gwen Cooper/Williams, Alt!Rhys Williams.  
**Original Characters:** Jaydon Tyler, Others...  
**Spoilers:** All New!Who Series.  
**Timeline: **Post Journey's End.  
**Summary:** Caring for her 6yr old son and working her hardest to keep the food on the table is a full time job for one, Rose Tyler. Being abandoned by the people you love isn't much fun either, but when it's for someone you adore so much – your son, no less – what choice do you have, but to let them go? Rose's life is getting harder by the day, but then comes back the blue police box... and everything changes.

_**Author's Note:**_So, this is my very first story posted here on and I'm really, really hoping it's alright. Also really, really nervous it won't be. I'd love feedback, if you wouldn't mind dropping me a line. It might be a tiny bit... confusing, but the following chapters explain how the situation... began, much better.

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**Chapter One**

The stars blinked, the small dots bright, scattered throughout the dark expansion of everlasting space, as the zeppelins hanging in the dark moved ever so slowly amongst them. The tree tops swayed, a slight and freezing wind rustling the leaves. A layer of white and the lightest blue was beginning to settle onto the surface, the clear, freezing winter night set to skate the roads and paths with frosty ice.

In a small flat in a town in the North of England a mother, Rose Tyler, was sitting by the bed of her son. A small, slightly worn hardback book of _Children's Fairy Tales _was open on her lap, her brown eyes cast down as she read the words to the small boy, glancing down at him with a smile ever so often as the six-year-old looked up at her with thoughtful and curious eyes. His own deep, dark, black eyes oddly troubled, and uncomfortable. The young boy idly pulled on his white blond hair, curling it around his middle finger.

"...But while the wolf was climbing on to the roof, the little pig made up a _**blazing**_ fire and put on a big pot full of water to boil," Rose was reading softly. "Then, just as the wolf was coming down the chimney, the little piggy took off the lid, and _**plump!**_ In fell the wolf, into the scalding water... So the little piggy put on the cover again, boiled the wolf up, and ate him for supper!"

The small boy stared up at his mother, eyes as wide as saucers and mouth now gaping. "He _**ate**_ him for supper?" he repeated, full of skepticism, disbelief and something similar to regret.

"Well, the wolf ate the third pig's brothers," Rose said knowingly, with a frown, almost a little defensively.

"Yes," said the boy in a small voice, a sigh escaping as if he were now suddenly very bored with the whole thing. "But that's because he's _**supposed**_ to. It's all part of the food chain. Wolves eat pigs. A _**pig**_ can't eat a _**wolf!**_" he scoffed.

Rose sighed gently, shutting the book and crowing it to her chest. "It's just a story, Jaydon," she said quietly. She stood up from her chair, placing the book on the bedside table and leaning over her son, ready to tuck him away to sleep.

"Not a very good one," the little boy named Jaydon said, and his head tilted in disappointment, though Rose wasn't sure whether that was due to the _'not very good'_ story, or because he knew she was now kissing him goodnight, ready to leave him for the night. "I like wolves. Why did the fat, ugly_** pig**_ have to eat the wolf?"

"Because," she said simply, not elaborating further but simply stating the word as a fact of reason Jaydon should already know.

"Because what?"

"Just _**because,**_" she sighed a little impatiently, her voice rising slightly and hand moving subconsciously to wipe a blond strand of hair behind her ear. Rose sighed, regretting her short words when she saw her son's hurt, confused features. "It was just... bad."

"A bad wolf," Jaydon said, his voice hushed.

Rose felt a sudden chill run up her arms, the hair at the back of her neck standing abruptly on end. The words caused much more of a creeping déjàvu than she would like to admit. "Yes," she said quietly, "a bad wolf."

Jaydon yawned tiredly. "As long as you don't eat _**me**_ up if I'm bad," he mumbled, rolling onto his side, his eyes already half closed.

Rose smiled gently, kissing his forehead and stroking back his blond curls. "I'll try not to," she murmured softly, standing up. "Though I might have to consider it if you nick my mobile again," she quickly added, remembering a few days ago when she'd caught him messing about with her large, black mobile phone (clan with an aerial Jaydon used to call the_ 'pointy thingy'_); changing the ring tone among other things.

Soft, sleepy breathing was all she gained in reply.

At the doorway of the bedroom, Rose looked back to her son's sleeping form, smiling openly and leaning her head against the door frame. "See you in the morning, sweetheart," she whispered softly. He did not stir, and most probably had not even heard her, but still smiling, Rose turned around out the room, closing the door behind her.

She walked the short distance into the living room across the dingy hallway, almost tripping over one of Jaydon's _Transformers, _and doing a good job of stubbing her toe. Wincing and giving a tiny hop and huff of annoyance, she fell back onto the sofa, leaning her head back for a moment of peace. The silence consumed the air around her.

Nothing except the very gently, so very quiet, tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. Ticking away the seconds, minutes, hours...

Rose looked silently round the small living room, taking in the mess of another day gone by. Toys and books littered the carpet; various objects, from a spilt plastic box of _Lego_ pieces, (now covering the carpet in a reel of bright colors) to a large, thick _Earth and Space Encyclopedia_.

Their large, wildly outdated 90's TV set with the small screen sat on the DVD cabinet opposite, looking more like it was part of the big, black cabinet it was sitting on. Their wonky Christmas Tree stood right by the TV, leaning towards the telly as if gravity were pulling it forward and blocking half of the screen (though admittedly, there wasn't really anywhere else to put it). Jaydon had insisted they put up their tree, despite the fact it was only the beginning of November.

To the left of Rose was the kitchen, where she knew were mountains of pots and plates for her to wash; remnants from the spaghetti hoops and chips they'd devoured on the sofa earlier as the two of them watched _Tracy Beaker, _by Jaydon's request. She couldn't be bothered to start washing them, though she knew that would come back to bite her tomorrow when she'd be making their breakfast in a filthy kitchen to which a layabout with no job and a bout of messy persona would be proud of.

She stared at the messy living room she was in for a moment, wondering how her mother had ever managed _this_. This_ 'single mum living in a council flat' _lark. Then she felt the dreaded prickle of hot tears in her eyes and croaky closing of her throat she always felt when thinking of her mother and family. Blinking furiously and swallowing hard, Rose took a steady breath to try and relieve the sobs threatening to overwhelm her.

She closed her eyes, settled her head back, and tried to think of other things. Like what though? The bills that were due in yesterday? Or the cupboards that were just about empty? She almost physically groaned when she remembered that she was working tomorrow; a mind numbing job stacking shelves at_ Tesco_ with a wage similar to a paper boy... well, near enough, anyway. Not that she could find anything else, or even ask for a pay rise or overtime.

_They had made sure that was never possible. Nope, no ounce of happiness. That was the law they'd set her alone. They had the power over the entire country. And that's how they used it._

Shaking off unwelcome thoughts, Rose opened her bleary eyes just as her mobile phone began to ring. Her head whipped round, seeing it vibrating on the cabinet in between the wonky Christmas Tree and large TV set as it screamingly sang out Slade's _Merry Christmas Everybody_ (a ring tone Jaydon had clearly set on her phone, despite her protests). Rushing over and quickly answering it before the roaring singer even got out the second line, Rose spoke quietly and a little nervously into the phone (the large 'brick' phone, as her son loved to call it).

"Hello?" she greeted.

"Rose?" came the tentative whisper of a child's voice in reply.

Rose felt her body relax, grinning solidly as she recognized the voice. The voice of her favorite, eight-year-old brother; Tony Tyler.

"_**Tony!**_" she gushed with a grin, hopping over various bits and pieces of _Lego_ as she plonked herself back onto the sofa. "Hey! You alright? How you doing, little man?"

Over the phone she could hear Tony swallow, his breathing a little shallow as he coughed nervously. Rose suddenly felt a clench of fear squeeze at her chest. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

Then a thought crawled into her head. "Are they listening? Mum an' da-," she stopped suddenly, and corrected herself, "_**Your**_ mum an' dad – are they with you? Are they listening? Tony, I've told you not to call when they're with you," she scolded him gently, with a small bit of exasperation.

For a moment there was only continued hallow breathing over the phone, then she heard the distinct sound of something like a small, strangled sob. "No," her brother croaked. "They're not h – here."

"Then what is it?" Rose felt her heart clench painfully, as she was greeted with nothing but another loud sob. "Tony, why are you crying? What's wrong?" The beating pulse in her chest was painful; Tony _**never**_ cried.

She heard a loud sniff as Tony got his bearings, taking a steady breath in the same way Rose always did when controlling tears. "I wanted to... to talk to you," he murmured shakily.

"You know you can always talk to me," Rose said softly. "Always. What is it you wanted to talk about?" She hesitated for just a second; her hand around the phone clenched tighter, painfully. "Has something happened?"

"I gotta – I gotta t - tell you somethin', Rose," Tony struggled between sniffs and tears.

Rose could just imagine, with a lump in her throat, her little brother scrunched into a ball on the corner of his bed, probably in the _Scooby Doo_ pajamas he'd told her about the other week, with tears running down the clear complexion of his face and messy, dark blond hair squashed against his pillow as he held his mobile phone tight to his ear.

"It's... it's my mum."

Rose swallowed the rising lump in her throat, only to have it chucked back up at her. Her heart was beating fanatically and fear aching and consuming every part of her. "What? What's wrong with mum?" she breathed out; her voice sounded like someone else's. She didn't even notice she'd referred to Jackie as 'mum' instead of 'your mum'.

Tony seemed not to notice either. "My dad says she's sick, Rose," he choked. "He says she's got... got ca – cancer."

Rose couldn't speak. The clenched hand around her mobile loosened considerably and she almost dropped it. She'd heard the words her brother had spoken, but they couldn't really function into her brain. She couldn't fully grasp what he was saying."What?" was all she could whisper.

"I don't know what to do!" Tony sobbed, and she could hear the hysteria in his voice. "I don't know what it... Everyone's so sad." Then, in a hushed whisper, "I'm scared, Rose..."

Rose's stomach churned at her brother's fearful tone. He was scared. So scared. But she had to help him; it was her job as an older sister – even if he might not exactly know she was his older sister. Taking a deep breath and steadying her voice, Rose spoke kindly and firmly to him, "Listen, little man. It's gonna be okay, but you've gotta be strong. For mu– for your mum. Can you do that, Tony? I know it's scary, and your confused, and everyone's very sad and scared, but you have to try and be a _**brave**_ boy. Okay?"

For a moment all she got was more hallow, deep breathing in reply. A few sniffs and a small cough later and Tony spoke quietly. "'Kay.... yeah, okay"

Rose nodded, though Tony couldn't see her. "She'll _**be**_ okay, Tone. She will; she'll be... just fine."

"Yeah..." She heard Tony take a gulp of air, before he hiccuped loudly into the phone.

"It's your mum, Tone," Rose whispered, smiling small but fondly, "She'll be back to nagging you senseless by next month. You watch."

Tony gave a small, nervous titter of short laughter, and hiccuped once more. "Th - thanks, Rose." She heard his deep breathing calm slightly, his sniffs thinning.

"What are cousins for?" she murmured softly.

That was the story she'd had to tell her brother a year or two ago when she'd first got into contact with him; she and Tony were distant cousins, she'd fallen out with his mother a while back and he wasn't to tell her they were contacting each other. And that was that.

Her own breath was heavy, and she had to close her eyes for a moment, doing what she always did.

_Swallow her feelings. Bury them deep down. _

She then flicked her eyes back open, blinking furiously, tears blinding her momentarily. She took another deep breath. "How's mum right now?" she asked quietly, with slight hesitation. She realized immediately after that she had once again referred to Jackie as 'mum', not 'your mum'; but again, Tony seemed not to notice.

"Uhm. Okay," Tony said, his voice croaking just a little, broken voice fixed just slightly. "She's in bed right now. Tomorrow she's going to the... the hospital."

Rose's lip quivered and she frowned regretfully; her mother had always _**hated**_ hospitals. "Yeah? Well, I'm sure they won't keep her long. She'll be out again by the time you're back from school."

"Yeah..."

There was hesitation in his little voice and Rose got the feeling he was desperate to tell her something, but not sure she'd want to talk about it. She could picture him biting his lip as the thick air between them grew. Rose waited patiently for it, both desperate to know what was on his mind and dreading it at the same time. If he talked about her mother dying –

Rose did not complete that thought.

"James helped," he blurted out suddenly, in a loud tone that shocked her next to the soft and a little whispered conversation they'd just been having. "Uhm, I mean... James got her into a private hospital type thing, and he's in the house right now... helping."

Rose sat, stunned; whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that.

Tony knew that Rose didn't like talking about _**James**_, the family friend who visited every so often... Rose knew that, and she knew he'd thought maybe it was something to do with his job, a very important job at that. And following her silence, or sometimes even tears, at the mention of _**James**_, Tony would always drop it, almost understanding, not even asking about it.

She swallowed hard. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't the name ('_**James**__')_ that turned her stomach to stone. James was just a meaningless name. It wasn't even _his_ name. All the actual name brought to her mind was an idiot she used to go to school with, who used to shove pens up his nose and smash half-eaten, bitty pieces of a _Mars _bar down her top.

No, the name _**James**_ did nothing for her really. It was the meaning of the words though. The simple fact was that although she may not think of _him_ as _**James**__, _it didn't change the fact that _he_ was still helping her mum. Helping all of them where she couldn't.

Rose took a deep breath. "Right," she breathed heavily. "James is... there with you."

"He's downstairs," Tony half whispered.

"I thought he was a bit... busy, for stuff like that..." Rose murmured, the hand that wasn't clutching the phone now wrapped tightly around her legs. She put her chin on her knees, staring straight ahead, at the door leading to the hallway and her son's room.

"Yeah." Tony hesitated. "He is. But he's here helping sometimes... Probably, just, uh, trying to help his job... his campaign thing. I heard our sectary say that, anyway."

Rose smiled gently. She knew Tony made a huge effort to hate their family friend. And found it very difficult. Rose couldn't blame him though. She had been very much the same... once upon a time.

"I better go," she then heard him swallow and say quietly. "...He's gonna put me to bed soon."

Rose stomach did a double back flip as her heart span between her ribs. _He_ was putting her little brother to bed. Her brother was going to see_ him_, speak to _him_, in a matter of minutes.

"Right," she said, and it came out as a croak. "Best get off then. I'll... talk to you soon, 'kay Tone?"

"Yeah, 'kay," he replied. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Thanks Rose... I – I feel a bit better now."

The lump in her throat was taking a new high again. Rose took yet another steady breath. "Anytime, little man. I'll see ya."

She smiled slightly into the phone (knowing he couldn't see her, but also knowing he was doing the same) and pressed the red hang-up button.

Sweet, bitter silence welcomed her.

For several minutes she sat in the dim, cluttered living room; arms trapped around her knees, lips shaking, staring straight ahead. Then abruptly, not being able to take the mocking silence around her anymore, she stood up, walked over to the TV and switched it on. The news reporter began droning through the tiny speakers and Rose relaxed a little.

Until _he_ flickered onto the screen. She couldn't have told anyone what the news story behind the entire thing was. Some sort of debate in the Houses of parliament, by the look of it. She couldn't hear anything – nothing except the hallow roaring in her ears at the sight of _him_.

This was why she hated the news, dodged politics, and rarely watched the TV...

"Earlier today the Prime Minister, James Smith, was speaking in the..." The words droned on, meaningless to Rose.

On the screen James Smith was smiling tightly to his audience; his brown hair as messy as ever; his drawn eyes not twinking, just glassy. He stared at the screen and a rare wave of despair, loneliness and boredom passed through his features before quickly being pushed aside and replaced with a fake smile and due resignation.

Rose just stared. For once she didn't turn it off. She simply watched as James Smith did his Prime Minister _thing_.

Read a speech. Faked a smile. Lied to his audience now and then.

Rose just watched with tear stained cheeks.


	2. Two

**A/N:** Okay, so only when I posted the last chapter did I realize that the Pete's-world-Britain doesn't have a Prime Minister – it has a President, I believe. Therefore, 'James Smith' is the President, not the Prime Minister. Sorry for any confusion. And I'm sorry for the wait.

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**Chapter Two**

"Mum," a small, whining voice rang out. "Mummy. Mum... Mummy! _Mum!"_

Rose started, blinking, and turned to her son, who was swinging on her arm, and she realized she had drifted off. "What? Oh, sorry Jaydon."

"You weren't _listening_," Jaydon said, annoyed. His brow furred into a deep frown as he stared up at her, dark eyes searing into her face and anger masking his expression. He took his hand away from her arm and crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

"No, I was," Rose said quickly. "You were telling me what you did at school today." She smiled brightly at him and put a hand on his shoulder, bringing him closer as they walked along the busy urban street. She had just picked him up from Primary School, and they were walking the fifteen minute journey to the bus stop, before they would take the hour bus journey back to their estate. "Science, wasn't it, this afternoon?" Rose asked Jaydon, bumping playfully into him.

Jaydon chose to ignore that question, his gaze riveting up the sky instead, where thick, heavy, white clouds hung like a blanket over them. "May I going sledging tomorrow?" he asked his mother quietly.

Rose frowned. "Sledging?" she repeated. "You need snow for sledging, Jaydon, and there's no snow about here. And anyway, you have school tomorrow." She laughed nervously, running her fingers through Jaydon's blond hair.

"It's going to snow tonight though," Jaydon said; his voice was hushed, and his eyes didn't leave the clouds above. "At seven o'clock tonight, right through 'til dawn, it's going to snow... school shall be closed."

"The news reporters said only the south will get the snow," she told Jaydon, entwining her hand with his and taking a faster stride.

"They're wrong." There was something in Jaydon's tone that made Rose stop, and she turned to look at him. He was staring at her with an intense and determined gaze. Something silver flickered within his dark eyes. But Rose blinked and it had gone.

She wasted no more time arguing with him. There was no doubt in her mind now that he was right. "Really?" she whispered. Jaydon nodded twice. They stared at one another for a moment.

"You know it's true now, don't you?" Jaydon smiled at her. "So may I go sledging tomorrow, with the other boys?"

"We'll see," said Rose quietly. She walked purposely forward, increasing their pace. "C'mon, or we'll miss the bus."

"We won't," he said surely, and skipped along beside her.

III

The first time it had happened had been on Jaydon's third birthday.

He was already able to speak freely enough, words springing from his lips as easily as any adult. It had... unnerved her a little, to say the least. Hearing him speak so clearly at such a young age was enough to unnerve anyone though, and Rose made sure to tell him to keep his mouth zipped when there were strangers about.

At this time though almost everyone was a stranger, so he was only to speak to her. She hated the silence when others were about and he'd say nothing at all, but if anyone were to notice... were to see the toddler talking about aerodynamics and physiology... they'd take him away from her for sure.

So when it first happened, when he got his first premonition, he was sat on the carpet reciting the periodic table to her as he read his _Earth and Space_ book, whilst she listened and read her magazine from the sofa _(he'd chided that she wasn't listening, but she'd insisted that it was a known fact that women were capable of multi-tasking)._

When he got to lutetium though, and his recitation stopped abruptly, Rose sensed something in the air change and looked up quickly from her magazine to find Jaydon staring thoughtfully at the window. "Don't let her kiss me again please, mummy," he almost whispered. His head turned to her and she saw a flash of silver dance in his eyes. She blinked and it was gone.

"Don't let who kiss you?" Rose asked with a frown.

"Franny," Jaydon said. Franny was there next door neighbour, a kind woman in her late sixties who looked after Jaydon now and again when Rose had to work and she couldn't afford to take him to the the daycare centre. "She's going to kiss me again," he sighed. "It's not fair. I don't want her to!"

Rose laughed a little. "No, she won't Jaydon. She caught her plane to Spain last night, remember. We waved goodbye – she left you a birthday present. She won't be back 'til next week."

Jaydon smiled knowingly, his chin poking up in defiance. "But she didn't though. She didn't go. Her flight got cancelled and there isn't another until tomorrow. So she got her money back instead, and– and decided it wasn't worth the bother."

Rose stared at him. She shook her head, denying him. "Don't be silly Jaydon. How can you know that?" She wanted him to be joking, but she knew her son; and his intense stare, insisting tone, told her he was being deadly serious.

Jaydon simply turned back to his book. "She'll be here very soon. In one minute and six seconds. Please do _try_ to tell her I don't like her kisses. They're very wet."

Rose's eyes did not move away from her son. He didn't seem to notice though, his interest captured within his book. The seconds ticked by and she realised she was waiting. It's alright, she told herself. Nothing will happen. Franny's in Spain, and your son can't tell the future.

She was still staring at Jaydon when he spoke with a sigh fifty-six seconds later. "Ten seconds and she'll be here. Don't worry, I'll shut up when she is."

Right on time, there came the sound of the door bell. Rose didn't move, staring in shock at Jaydon. Jaydon just smiled at her. Still, she couldn't move. "Someone's at the door," Jaydon told her.

Rose nodded and got to her feet. She walked silently round the corner and down the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. And there was Franny, red cheeked and wrapping her blue anorak around her to fend from the cold. "Hello dear. Don't mid me popping by, do you? My flight was canceled, and there's not another until tomorrow – _tomorrow,_ I tell you – and, well, I didn't much fancy sleeping on those old airport chairs. But, well, at least this way I can give little Jaydon a kiss – find out how he liked his birthday presents." She smiled at Rose, before taking in her sudden pallor. "Rose? Dear, are you okay?"

Rose swallowed heavily and nodded, "Uhm, yeah, yeah. Come in."

Franny dithered on about nothing much as they walked upstairs, complaining about the state of England's services and the price of taxes, but Rose was to shocked to give any sort of reply. They entered the living room where Jaydon sat silently on the carpet, book abandoned and rolling a small blue ball back and forth... back and forth, back and forth, staring like he was hypnotized…

Rose watched as Franny went over and cooed over him before smacking a wet kiss on his lips. As she stood back up and cannoned over to the kitchen with the promise of tea, Jaydon gave Rose something of a disgusted look, wiping his mouth as if it were her fault he had just been given the wet kiss. Rose was too amazed to pay much attention though, too shocked to even insist Franny sit down and she make the tea.

She stared at Jaydon, but his eyes didn't leave the blue ball he was rolling from one hand to his other. He glanced up only once, and again Rose saw the hint of silver in his black eyes.

He smiled. She blinked. And the silver was gone.

III

Jaydon's gift didn't stop there. Although they didn't happen everyday. Or even every week. It would be every few months, he would stop whatever it was he was doing and look up at the sky, or out of the window, and suddenly announce exactly what was going to happen. The time was different each time. It could be what would happen tomorrow, or in a few minutes, or next week...

It didn't matter.

He was _always_ right.

Rose hadn't known what to think. At first she'd taken it as a lucky guess... or he'd overheard something... or maybe it was all some huge practical joke he was playing on her...

But in the end, after five premonitions and five solid times he'd been right... she'd be forced to admit that her son had a gift.

She had wondered if maybe it had something to do with his parentage.... but hadn't liked to dwell on it. She never really liked to dwell too long on that subject.

Usually, she could push her son's mysterious forebodings to the back her mind. They didn't come too often after all, and they never hurt anyone – sometimes they could even be useful. As she sat on the bus that afternoon though, she couldn't help thinking of her son and the snow he had predicted.

Sometimes Jaydon could scare her and there were times, like now, when she wondered – however briefly – if she had made the right decision. All those years ago... had she done the right thing? She would dismiss these thoughts immediately though – all it took was a glance at her son.

She sighed and stared out of the window, up at the white blanket of clouds above, full of the fluffy white stuff. She loved the snow. When she was little, her mother would wrap her up in so many layers of clothes she could hardly breathe. And then when she got back from the long snowball fights with Mickey and the other kids on the estate, she'd get back and find a hot chocolate waiting for her...

Rose's gaze fell down to her lap. Thinking of her mother hurt. Was she okay? She'd have been at the hospital today. What if she was still there? What if she was worse? What if...?

_He_ would be there, Rose couldn't help thinking. It was good, of course. He _should_ be there. If anyone knew about helping and medicine and things like that, he did. Except... she should be there, too.

She closed her eyes. And _god,_ she had to remind herself that she couldn't keep thinking about him like that. Her heart would be nothing more than ash if it broke anymore.

"Mum?" Jaydon pulled impatiently on her jumper.

"Yeah?" She turned to him, trying to brighten her eyes a little.

His eyes shifted around a little, his head held down like he was avoiding catching anyone's eye. "There's someone staring at you," he half whispered.

"What? Where?" Rose looked up from her son, intending to search the seats around them, but Jaydon pulled her back down.

"Don't look at him. He's looking at you really funny. I don't like it. He's a real starer."

Rose frowned. Her first thought was that there was some sort of pervert watching her, which meant she'd have to keep a close look out once they got off the bus. She had to check though. Ignoring Jaydon's whispered protests, she raised her head and searched the seats nearby for any sign of this mysterious _starer._

An old woman with a tiny, ugly green handbag was giving her the usual_ look_ she gained when out with Jaydon (that certain_ 'look at you – single mother, poorly paid, living in those flats, getting the bus everywhere. Poor disgusting thing'_), which she had long since learned to ignore. Rose had a feeling that wasn't who Jaydon was referring to though. There were also two teenagers nearby, who were so lost in each other Rose though they probably wouldn't have realized there was anyone besides them on the bus anyway.

Then she saw him. It must be who Jaydon meant... had to be. He was sitting just behind the old woman, watching her. Actually, _watching_ wasn't really the right word. He looked away as soon as her eye caught his, but there was no denying the look in his eyes. It was a pure, untainted emotion of something similar to hope, anguish, pride and... love? But that couldn't be right; she'd never seen that man before in her life.

He looked a similar age to her – between twenty-five and thirty perhaps. He had small, dark brown eyes and a lot of dark unwieldy hair. His face was angular and fairly handsome, his eyebrows very light. His dark clothes and brown leather jacket made his face pale. Rose couldn't place it, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he looked achingly familiar. Particularity the eyes...

But no. She'd never seen this man before in her life. She must be going mad.

Snapping out of it, Rose spent the rest of the journey looking out of the window. Yet, she still couldn't shake the burning feeling that she was being watched. Jaydon kept strangely quiet as they rode back, and the one time Rose glanced over at him she saw his eyes boring into the man who had been watching her. The man was no longer looking over at them, but looking down at his brown shoes instead. Rose wondered if he knew Jaydon was watching him.

As the bus finally came to a halt outside their stop, Rose abruptly stood up, taking Jaydon's small hand in hers. She didn't look at the strange, young man who looked so achingly familiar as she left the bus. But judging by the burning eyes she felt in her back, she was in no doubt he was looking at her.

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_Reviews apreciated._


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